


i’ve broken bones for you and for you only

by rainshowers



Category: Hannibal (TV), Polar (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Blow Jobs, Hannibal Extended Universe, M/M, Polar AU, The Jane Austen Book Club AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 02:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17520722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainshowers/pseuds/rainshowers
Summary: It had been a peaceful year for him, but he knew deep down that they were still out there.Calculating.Watching.Waiting for him to get back out in the cold.





	i’ve broken bones for you and for you only

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal’s character is patterned after Duncan Vizla from the Polar: Came From the Cold webcomics while Will’s is patterned after Grigg Harris from The Jane Austen Book Club movie. :)

Killing had always been—and will always be—a lot easier for him than socializing.

When you socialize, you get attachments. When you get attachments, you feel emotions... and when you feel emotions, it makes you an easy target. Emotions betray you, exposing that well-hidden bullshit beneath all that veneer of confidence you pride yourself in. They make you vulnerable. Transparent. _Weak_.

And Hannibal Lecter had already dedicated more than half of his life to bloodshed just to convince everyone that he wasn’t susceptible to weakness.

He barely even registered the soft ping! of the elevator before a man hurriedly made his way inside and pressed the already lighted “20” button. Hannibal didn’t need to take a closer look to assess whether he was a threat or not. The man was far younger than him, shorter by at least an inch or two in his estimate, and, judging by the number of books he was clutching closely to his chest, was probably on his way to the ongoing science fiction conference in The Continental Hotel’s entertainment floor.

It could be a distraction, Hannibal thought to himself, a clever cover to make him lower his defenses. He would’ve done something about it, but a small corner of his mind disagreed with the idea. Damocles had pretty much left him alone since the incident in Minsk, withdrawing all the deployed agents out for his blood and removing the reward for his head. It had been a peaceful year for him, but he knew deep down that they were still out there.

 _Calculating_.

 _Watching_.

 _Waiting for him to get back out in the cold_.

“Late for the conference, too?”

Hannibal could feel the man’s bluish-green eyes boring into him, an almost fond curiosity swirling in the colors of his irises, picking apart random pieces of his exterior shell to make a profile out of them. He felt his skin prickle, a gentle warning telling him to get the fuck out of there immediately. Hannibal knew very well what that look is capable of.

It can kill.

“No,” Hannibal answered politely, risking a glance at the man to his left to offer him a small smile. The man, to his credit, looked incredibly shocked at his display of expression. Perfectly understandable, he told himself, especially given the state that he was in. Hannibal wanted to chuckle, but he couldn’t seem to muster the energy for it. It was times like this that was making him miss his left eye.

The elevator finally came to a stop and Hannibal tore his eyes away from the man, stepping out of the lift without so much as a glance.

He sat by the bar and ordered a glass of neat old-fashioned cocktail, earning him a side-eye from the bartender. He opened his flip phone, thumbing at the center key, and studied the only number registered in his contacts. Hannibal could feel the itch to delete it but opted instead to just down his drink in one gulp.

He hissed, savoring the way the sweet and bitter taste of the alcohol burn at the back of his mouth, before ordering another one. Hannibal might hate sugary drinks, but his newly-found hatred for on-the-rocks trumped that. He didn’t want any more traces of the cold in places where it shouldn’t be. It was the reason why he brought back his old, slicked back hair and clean-shaven look. Anything that had ice in it only reminded him of his past life, the one that kept coming back to him—the one he desperately wanted to leave behind.

It reminded him of Clarice.

Beautiful, sexy, and daring Clarice. Hannibal had pretty much pieced their life together in his mind, weaving different scenarios so vivid that they almost felt so real and so reachable at the time. He imagined both of them building a family together. Away from all the chaos and ugliness that his past offered him.

But just with a snap... the Damocles Agency took that all away from him.

“Do you mind if we sit here?”

The man from the elevator stood behind the chair next to Hannibal, seemingly carrying more books than before, while another man stood beside the man from the elevator. Hannibal made a noncommittal noise before adding a strained, “Not at all.”

The man didn’t say anything to him after that, just went straight to a full-on conversation with his friend. Hannibal let them have their moment, unconsciously listening to their conversation as he continued to stare off at his phone. He was already on his fourth glass of old-fashioned when the man’s friend said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Will. You should probably head up now, you’re all red.”

Hannibal felt the small hairs on his nape prickle up, the same exact feeling he had felt back in the elevator. He could sense that the man’s eyes were on him once again, but with more intensity than their previous encounter. Hannibal drank the contents of his glass in one fluid motion and placed his payment on the counter. “Stop looking at me like that, kid.”

He turned to him, finally seeing the man— _Will_ , he corrected himself—in full detail. Hannibal took in Will’s features, memorizing every line present on the man’s face. He had dark brown hair, a five o’clock shadow, and his eyes seemed wider than before. Hannibal watched the way Will’s lips curl at the corners.

“Like what?”

 _Like you never want to take your eyes off of me_ , Hannibal says to himself. He glanced at the now-empty glass in front of Will, wondering how many drinks the man had already consumed, before nodding at the pile of books beside the man’s glass. “Like I’m from one of your books.”

Will flushed, a rosy tint creeping from his cheeks up to his nose bridge. Hannibal observed the man’s movements with interest. He was... different. Well, Hannibal supposed, everything would be quite different when you never inserted yourself in social events. Will ran a hand through his hair and gave Hannibal a nervous smile. “I’m sorry. It’s just... you look like you came straight out of a sci-fi novel.”

“Which one?”

“What?” Will asked back before realizing what Hannibal meant. “Oh. Le Chiffre from Casino Royale.”

Hannibal still grinned at him in spite of himself. A Bond villain. _Of course_. He should’ve seen that the man’s choice would include someone with a banged-up left eye. Hannibal dipped his head in acknowledgment. He lifted his shoulders in a half shrug. “I’m sure Le Chiffre would whip me for my fashion choices.”

“Then your version of Le Chiffre doesn’t have taste,” Will told him, eyes slightly drooping as his lips formed a lazy smile. The man looked slightly embarrassed by what he had just said but still managed to sit still on the barstool. If one the people around the bar asked Hannibal what liquid courage looked like, he would definitely point at Will.

He tilted his head to the side and imagined what could happen next. Hannibal supposed he should introduce himself to the man, but he couldn’t risk exposure anymore. Not now. Not again. Not ever. He went for his favorite alias instead. “I’m Duncan Vizla.”

“Will,” the man answered with a toothed grin. “Will Graham.”

Hannibal hummed, changing the topic immediately before Will could ask any more questions about his personal life. “Science fiction, is it?”

“Trust me, I know it’s weird.” Will slapped a hand down on the topmost book and let out a heavy sigh. Hannibal wanted to comment on how it was not weird to like certain things, but Will beat him to it. “It makes me happy, though. My books remind me of my childhood. My dad.”

“Why the Jane Austen, then?” Hannibal asked. Will twitches in his seat and looked away from him as if he was trying to keep a secret. _Oh_. Hannibal nodded to no one in particular and answered his own question. “Girlfriend.”

Will closed his eyes and shook his head, huffing out a small puff of breath and a humorless chuckle. “Got rejected, actually.”

Instead of replying, Hannibal just observed the man. His eyes were still closed, leaving his open, expressionless face to Hannibal’s watchful eyes. Will looked peaceful like this. The creases on his forehead and under eyes were now invisible, replaced by a peaceful warmth radiating from the man’s entire body. He was probably thinking about the girl who rejected her, Hannibal thought, or worse: he had already fallen asleep.

“Will,” Hannibal called, tapping his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Will snapped out of his trance-like state and blinked slowly at Hannibal. “Sorry, I’m just... really dizzy.”

If Damocles taught him one thing, it had to be their rule about never underestimating one’s appearance. Will might look awkward and geeky, but for all Hannibal could know, the man might just be the one who would be able to break him. His line of thought was interrupted, however, as Will slammed a hand on the counter, desperately trying not to keel over his seat.

“Come on,” Hannibal said quickly before he changed his mind. He stood up and offered an arm to Will. “I’ll take you to your room.”

Will hummed gratefully and reached for his pocket to get some cash, generously tipping the bartender for his drinks. Hannibal winced at the sight but didn’t say anything. The man hopped out from the barstool and Hannibal had to put a hand on Will back to steady him and lead him all the way to the elevator.

Hannibal pushed the button for the tenth floor without thinking. He turned to his right, hands still keeping the man up straight, and saw that the flush from Will’s cheeks had already spread down to his throat. Will’s eyes were closed again and he didn’t show any sign of sobering up. Hannibal patted him lightly on the back. “Which floor is your stop?”

Will made a disgruntled noise and leaned into Hannibal, resting his head on his shoulder. He felt and heard the man sigh in content as he snuggled closer to him, face almost plastered to his neck. Hannibal could feel Will’s breath ghost softly on his skin, tickling him in a way he had never found appealing before.

The elevator doors opened and revealed an empty hallway. _Thankfully_. Hannibal dragged the entire weight of Will with all the energy he could muster while also cursing himself for doing this when he should be keeping a low profile. The idea that Will is another one of Damocles’ was still pretty much present in his mind, but he couldn’t really see the man being associated with his former agency at all.

“ _Pizdets_ ,” he said under his breath, struggling to get the keycard from his back pocket. Hannibal wound up Will’s arm around his waist, letting his hip support the man’s weight, and successfully got what he was trying to reach. He swiped the card and let the door swung wide open as he dragged Will to his bed.

Hannibal supposed he could kill him now and be done with it, but a small voice at the back of his head kept on reminding him that it wasn’t Damocles’ forte to lure him out of hiding. They would rather kill him in the messiest and easiest way possible then just cover everything up after. Hannibal was also well-aware that they won’t spend another dime on sending an agent in a fancy hotel just to look for him.

Especially now that the agency was going bankrupt.

He quickly went back to close his door and switch on the lights. Hannibal repositioned the man, cautious enough not to wake him while he put him in a more comfortable position, then proceeded to remove Will’s running shoes. Hannibal pulled the comforter over the man but stopped short when he saw Will looking at him with one eye cracked open.

“What?”

Will closed his eye and smiled. “You’re really attractive, by the way. Even when your eye’s all fucked up. Just thought I’d let you know.”

Hannibal found himself staring at the man until his breathing evened out. Then he stared some more. He felt a warm tug in his stomach, a soft coiling sensation that made him want to puke, and Hannibal wanted nothing more than to stay as far away as possible from the man. Before he can move, however, Hannibal caught the way Will stirred on the bed, scrunching his nose and sighing as he clung onto the comforter as if it was another person’s body.

Well... _shit_.

 

 

⌖

 

 

Old habits never die.

He has always been both a light sleeper and an early riser, two of the most important skills one needs to learn when they want to become an assassin. They were the main reason why he was still up and running. If he was still working for Blut, he would’ve been sharpening his knives over coffee and eggs as well.

Hannibal slept on the couch, occasionally waking up whenever there was a slight rustling. By six o’clock, he finally roused and showered. He contemplated whether to call in for breakfast or wait until the man has woken up from his slumber. He settled for making coffee instead.

“Duncan?” A voice from the bed called, its slightly metallic rasp drawing out his attention. Hannibal looked back and saw Will rubbing his eyes, hair all over the place. The man shut his eyes for a moment when he saw him. “Shit. I’m so sorry.”

Hannibal poured coffee into another cup and gave it to the man, giving a small smile as Will took it with both hands. “It’s fine. You passed out. Happens to the best of us.”

The man sipped a gracious amount and Hannibal wondered whether he was hungover or not. He went to sit on the club chair and let a comfortable silence stretch between them. Will was looking anywhere but him, the familiar rosy tint coloring his cheeks, and Hannibal figured that he was embarrassed about something.

“Will,” he called. Will only raised his eyebrows in acknowledgment, still looking in his cup. Hannibal sighed. “What is it?”

The man took a moment, seemingly trying his best to coax out whatever the question he had in his mind. Hannibal waited. Will sighed after a pregnant pause and looked at him, a hand rubbing at his nape. “Did we...?”

“No,” Hannibal answered, unable to hide the amusement coloring his tone. “I did not take advantage of you while you were wasted. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Will scowled and rolled his eyes, the tips of his ears turning into a more darker shade of red. _Interesting_. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Hannibal simply smiled and took the man’s empty cup. He was about to turn away when a hand on his forearm stopped him. Hannibal looked down on it before looking at Will who immediately recoiled his hand with a wince. The man peered up at him with an apologetic smile. “Thank you, though, for letting a stranger stay the night.”

“Count yourself lucky.” Hannibal placed the cups gently on the sink, trying to limit the noise as much as possible, and picked up the telephone. “Don’t you want to stay over for breakfast?”

Will seemed to consider saying _yes_ but shook his head after glancing at the digital clock on the bedside table. “I actually have to catch this morning’s conference about constructed language in science fiction.”

“I see.”

“Maybe we could meet later for dinner, though?” Will asked while standing up. The man was trying to play it cool, Hannibal observed, but he could sense that it took Will a lot of courage to ask him. “If you’re free.”

Hannibal smiled and followed him to the door, the telephone still in his hand. “I am.”

“See you at dinner.”

Will took out his room’s keycard out from a secret pocket inside his jacket before looking at the numbers on Hannibal’s door. The man chuckled. Hannibal threw him a confused look before asking, “What?”

The man raised his keycard and went to the room next to Hannibal’s. He swiped the card and carefully turned the knob, opening the door with ease. Will winked at him before going inside and Hannibal caught himself unconsciously smiling at the gesture.

It felt simple.

 

 

⌖

 

 

“I’m actually only here for a month.”

Hannibal passed Will an opened bottle of beer and sat a few good inches away from the man. They ate their dinner at the hotel’s restaurant after Will’s third conference for the day and decided to have drinks at Will’s room afterward. He asked him questions and Hannibal gave him half-truths.

He mentioned being born in Lithuania and moving to Belarus, he mentioned the shitty first job he had as a teenager, but went ahead and lied about his family being alive and well back in Lithuania. It was easy to lie to Will. That didn’t mean it felt right to him. They’ve only known each other for a grand total of twenty-eight hours and yet for some reasons unclear even to Hannibal himself, he wanted to let the man in—to let him know who he really was.

He wanted Will to _see_.

“For the conference?”

Will shook his head, taking a large gulp of his beer as he played with the remote control. “No, it’s more... complicated than that.”

“Like the girl who rejected you?” Hannibal asked bluntly, trying to hide the distaste from his voice. He couldn’t fully point out why he was acting this way. He tried searching for Clarice in his mind, replaying all the moments they had in their short time together, but all that came to him was the wide bluish-green eyes staring into his soul and the small curve of the man’s lips.

“Woman.”

Hannibal put his own beer bottle down the coffee table in front of them before turning to look at Will. “What?”

“She’s older than me for about ten years,” the man explained. He hadn’t taken another sip from his bottle, Hannibal realized. Will set his drink down as well and continued his explanation. “I even let her meet one of my sisters, but she didn’t want attachments. I had to give up and respect her wishes. Not that it matters since it’s already been a year. So.”

A year.

Hannibal wanted to laugh. Here they were, a man who used to kill people for a living and a man who still had a fixation on science fiction novels, unknowingly celebrating the anniversary of losing the person they valued the most. He wanted to dig in, get to know the man better, but he dropped his plan and chose the safer path instead. “Sounds as if you really like her.”

“Well, in some way, I did. I’ve always thought of her as an angel.” He watched Will in his periphery. The man was looking straight at the flatscreen TV, eyes trained at Tom Ellis as he busts in a recording studio with Lauren German. Hannibal noted the pause Will took before he talked again. “It’s funny because that’s the polar opposite of what I think of you.”

“Do you think of me as the devil, Mr. Graham?” Hannibal slightly angled his body toward the man’s direction to look at him with his good eye. Will had the same flush on his cheeks that he had this morning, the tips of his ears were red again even with only the different colored lights coming from the television, but Hannibal thought the man looked more grounded. As if he knew where he stood.

Will rested his head on the backrest of the couch they were sitting on and sighed, his dreamy eyes finally on Hannibal’s face. “Maybe.”

“The devil has two eyes, Will,” Hannibal said, nodding at Tom Ellis who was now torturing John Pankow’s character by revealing him his true face. Will chuckled and Hannibal expected the man to look away, grab his beer from the coffee table, and let them continue the show in silence.

He didn’t.

Will reached up a hand to Hannibal’s left cheek instead, thumb tracing over the scar under his eye ever so carefully. Hannibal unexpectedly leaned into the touch. He wondered if the man would ask why and how he got the scar, but Will only stared at him under his lashes and wetted his lips, pupils blown under the dim light.

“Will,” he whispered. Hannibal wasn’t sure what he would say next, afraid that he might not be able to stop himself. It hadn’t been too long since he had been with someone, but the man’s feathered touch and the soft, warm hand on his cheek made him crave more.

Will’s eyes flicked down to his lips then back up into his eyes. Even with the noise coming from the unmuted television, Hannibal could hear his own breathing and the heavy thuds of his heart. The hand on his cheek traveled to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair before gripping it. A sharp sting of pleasure coursed through his veins and Hannibal felt a thrill move down his spine.

They met halfway. Will pushed himself up from the backrest while Hannibal leaned down, their lips slotting against each other. Hannibal opened up to the man, letting Will take control of the kiss while he slid a hand on the man's back. He could feel Will’s smile against his lips before the man pushed him back and climbed to his lap. Hannibal groaned at the pressure, his hands flying to the man’s hips. He bit gently at Will’s lower lip, eliciting a delicious gasp from the man.

They writhed eagerly against each other. Will dragged his mouth away from Hannibal’s and focused his attention on pressing open-mouthed kisses on Hannibal’s jaw and throat. Hannibal’s hands went further down as well, kneading the clothed swell of the man’s ass, making small noise that he couldn’t seem to help whenever Will’s teeth grazed over his skin.

When Will’s hands found the belt of his jeans, Hannibal wrapped a hand around his wrist. The man looked up at him in confusion and Hannibal wanted nothing more than to capture Will’s swollen red lips again. Neither of them was drunk, but Hannibal had to be sure. He didn’t know if he could bear the thought of Will waking up in the morning and regretting what they did.

“Are you certain about this?”

Will’s features softened and he pressed a kiss on Hannibal’s lips. When he pulled away, he looked into Hannibal’s eyes once more. “More than I’ve ever been for long while.”

Hannibal responded by kissing him with more intensity than the previous ones he gave to Will. He stood up, careful not to fall over, and wrapped the man’s legs around him. Will pushed Hannibal’s jacket down to his shoulders and ducked his head to suck at the dip between Hannibal’s collarbones. The small distance to the bedroom felt like a mile to Hannibal as he relished every suck, every bite, and every grind that Will gave him.

He laid him down onto the bed and wasted no time taking off his clothes. Will mirrored his frantic movements, almost tearing up the shirt he was wearing underneath his parka until both of them were bare and panting heavily. Hannibal took a moment to drink in Will’s body before placing a soft kiss on the man’s lips. “Exquisite.”

Will moaned and squirmed beneath him, trying to get as much friction as he could get from humping on Hannibal’s thigh, but Hannibal steadied his hips with a hand and whispered to his ear. “Allow me, Will.”

“Please,” the man murmured, his eyes shut as he fisted at the sheets on his side. Hannibal pressed soft kisses on Will’s neck as he pinched a nipple, then continued his trail of kisses until he reached his destination. He took the man’s erect cock in his hand and gave it an experimental pump, pleased when he felt it twitch. Hannibal looked up at Will and found that he was craning his neck to watch him. He lowered his head, not breaking eye-contact, and licked the tip.

Will bucked his hips, but Hannibal held him down. He traced a long stripe on the underside of the man’s cock, teasing him just a little, before swallowing him whole. Will lolled his head back, lips parted in pleasure, and Hannibal doubled his efforts. The man rewarded him with his breathless moans and the limited movements of his hips.

Hannibal lifted a hand around the base of Will’s cock, pumping in time with the bob of his head. He could feel his own cock leaking and the urge to wrap a hand around himself was becoming more appealing with every noise escaping Will’s throat, but Hannibal focused on wanting to see the man fall apart.

“Oh. God. Please.” Will’s fingers tugged at his hair as if trying to remove Hannibal’s mouth on him. “Please, I can’t— _I can’t_.”

The man’s labored breathing made Hannibal hum around him, deciding to continue his ministrations at a faster pace. Will’s hips were stuttering now, head tossing to each side. Hannibal took him all in until he felt the man’s cock touch the back of his throat, caressing Will’s thigh soothingly until he heard the man shout an unintelligible word and felt the body under him convulsed, spurting hot, thick liquid down his throat in the process.

Will wasn’t finished draining his load, but Hannibal already pulled away, taking the moment to watch the man’s face in absolute bliss. He licked his lips, tasting the salty, bitter taste that was purely Will, and cataloged the man’s expression in a room inside his mind. Will grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a kiss, tasting himself as he licked his way into Hannibal’s mouth. Hannibal moaned against his lips, letting Will flip their position.

“Your turn,” Will said with a grin and wrapped his hand around him, stroking Hannibal’s length with much urgency that Hannibal could see stars dancing in his vision. He was almost _there_ and the weight of Will on top of him was making it a lot easier. Hannibal bucked his hips up along with Will’s strokes.

“That’s it,” the man cooed softly. His voice was barely above a whisper, yet Hannibal could feel the words reverberating inside his body. “You feel so good.”

Hannibal’s hips lifted up from the bed as his ass tightened, eyes never leaving Will’s face as he came, coating his and Will’s belly with cum.

The man smiled and plopped down on the empty beside him, burying his head on his chest and inhaling his scent. Hannibal felt his cum cool on his belly, but he couldn’t be bothered with it. Not when Will had his arm wrapped around him like this. Will pressed a kiss on his chest and sighed. “Thank you.”

 

 

⌖

 

 

He shifted the grocery bag to his left hand, internally cursing at himself for thinking that this was a good idea, and eased the tension pooling in his right hand. Hannibal drove all the way to the city, wearing sunglasses and a cap to prevent facial recognition from Damocles’ satellite, and bought whatever food he thought was fresh or edible enough to be cooked. Then he got stuck in traffic. He guessed it was a good thing he left Will early in the morning and placed a handwritten note on the bedside table which said:

 

 _Good morning, Will._  
_Went to grab breakfast_.  
_Hope you slept well_.

 

The hallway in their floor remained empty as usual, the only sound was the background noise coming from one of the rooms, but Hannibal still stalked silently toward Will’s room. He was halfway through the corridor when he caught a familiar scent.

Hannibal could feel his heart rate suddenly speeding up, the memory of Clarice dying in his arms rewinding in his brain like an old cassette tape. He couldn’t resist the hurried steps his feet unconsciously took just to get to Will’s door... only to find it slightly opened.

“Will?” Hannibal called loudly, stepping in inside with his back to the door, ready for whoever was waiting inside. He inhaled deeply, trying to catch a whiff of how many men were inside Will’s room, but only found lingering scents. Hannibal swung the door wide and was greeted by an empty room.

The note he had placed on the bedside table was ripped in half, but the one that caught his attention the most was the vandalized mirror covered in orange-colored lipstick.

 

Miss me? - V.

 

Hannibal only saw red. He dropped the bags onto the floor with a heavy thud, locked Will’s door, and proceeded to change into his only available black suit. He knew exactly what he’d do to every member of his former organization if they so much as hurt even a single strand from Will’s hair.

It would be their funeral.

He holstered his pistol and magazines to his hips, strapped his combat blade to his right thigh, secured his hard drive to a secret pocket inside his coat, and grabbed his cellphone. It was the last gift Clarice gave him before Damocles came for her: a phone to sync her laser-guided assault rifles. It was her idea to lure every agent they could get into the vacant warehouse they had acquired only twenty kilometers north from The Continental.

And it would be her idea that would save Will.

Hannibal took his keys and drove as fast as he could without breaking any laws. It was bad enough that Damocles was onto him. He didn’t want to risk the involvement of local enforcement. He opened the gates of the empty lot where the warehouse was located and left his car just outside the door before going inside.

Everything still looked and smelled the same.

The furniture he had left behind were partially covered in white sheets, the Russian-manufactured, laser-guided AKMs with suppressors and 7.62mm bullets were still in their respective places on the second floor, and the three boxes of smokeless powder remained untouched and sealed next to the main entrance. He inhaled deeply one last time, remembering what the smell of the place before someone tainted it, and took out his cellphone.

Hannibal activated the control and checked whether everything was still functional. Hannibal pointed the laser from his phone to the wall and pressed the center key once. Ten bullets came from the ten different guns overhead. Hannibal nodded to himself, pleased to see that his trap would not go in flames.

He switched his phone off first and walked outside to look up at the sky. “Hello, here I am.”

After counting to thirty, he went back inside. That was more than enough introductory period for Damocles’ satellite to locate him. Hannibal dusted one of the wooden chairs and sat on it, bouncing his legs up and down as he waited. Time wasn’t on his side in this one, but he knew he needed to buy some for Will.

His eyes flicked to the white ‘S+L’ painted on the wall. They had a lot of good memories in this warehouse, most of which included just lazing around without having a care in the world. _You would’ve liked him, Clarice_ , Hannibal thought to himself. _Him and his books and his love for science fiction_.

The loud chuntering blades of two helicopters overhead pulled him back into reality. He huffed and stood up as he heard the loud footsteps of the agents outside. One kicked at the door and about twenty men in black suits carrying submachine guns filed in. When the last one came in, Hannibal raised a brow. “That didn’t take long.”

“The Black Kaiser,” Blut said out loud, not daring to step any closer. The old, short man was wearing a bright orange shirt, tinted eyeglasses, and his hair was white from root to tip. He didn’t change a bit. Blut seemed to take his silence as defeat and chuckled to himself. “You’re really willing to die for a cocksucker, old man?”

Hannibal shut his eye briefly, ticked off by his former employer’s rudeness. When he opened it, the people in front of him stepped back, SMGs aimed at him. Hannibal noticed none of the guns clicked, indicating that they still had the safety on. His eyes locked at Blut as he switched his cellphone.

“This old man doesn’t want to die, Blut.” He pointed the laser toward the group of men to Blut’s right and grinned. “But he does want to kill. _Badly_.”

Hannibal long pressed the center key, making sure to hit everyone precisely on where he wanted to hit them, then pointing it at the group toward Blut’s left and firing at them before they could even react. Hannibal stared directly at Blut as he relished the taste of hearing the chorus of men yelling and groaning in pain.

It was exhilarating.

His former employer stood still at the center of all the bloodied, writhing bodies around him, clearly frozen in shock. Hannibal started walking toward him, one slow step at a time, waiting how the man would react. When they were only ten steps away from each other, Blut came to his senses and whipped out the white pistol hidden beneath his coat.

“Freeze, you bastard!” Blut yelled, voice slightly shaking. It put a smile on Hannibal’s lips and a satisfied feeling in his gut. He pointed the laser on the man’s gun and quickly pressed the 1 button on his phone, sending the man’s gun flying away. Hannibal wanted to enjoy the feeling of squeezing the life out of the old man. Blut reddened in anger and took out his combat knives. “You think you’re the smartest guy in the world, don’t you? But you’re nothing. You’re just an old legend. I’m the future and you’re history. You’re _ruins_.”

The man surged forward, knives at the ready, but Hannibal was quick, grabbing both of the man’s wrist to flip him in a lockjaw position and cause him to drop his knives.

Blut clutched at his arm, nails digging into his clothed skin, but Hannibal didn’t budge, only tightening his hold on the man’s neck. When he heard the last shudder of breath leave the man’s mouth, Hannibal reached down to the blade strapped to his thigh and slashed at Blunt’s throat, letting the blood spray on his white undershirt.

He felt powerful.

Hannibal took Blut’s favorite lighter from his pocket looked at the art he created. One of the bodies moved, prompting him to come closer. He watched as the agent coughed and spluttered blood onto the lifeless body lying next to him. “Where’s Vivian?”

“Cali. HQ,” the man replied with obvious difficulty. “With. Kid.”

He took out the pistol from his hips and planted a bullet on the man’s head, relieving him of his pain. Hannibal briefly considered getting the cigarette from Blut’s suit but decided against it. He scattered the smokeless powder around the warehouse, walked out the main entrance, then turned back with a sad smile. Hannibal opened Blut’s lighter and tossed to the bag of smokeless powder near the door.

“Goodbye, Clarice,” he murmured silently as he watched the inside of the warehouse combust. Hannibal made his way back to his car and roared the engine back to life, speeding up north to get to Lompoc as fast as he could.

He still had a life to save and a life to end.

  

 

⌖

 

 

“Herr Kaiser, welcome! Please come in. Miss Vivian’s expecting you.”

Hannibal reached Melville Winery in a record time of an hour and a half from the warehouse. The Melville Winery estate had always been Damocles’ headquarters in California even before it was turned into a winery back in 1989. Hannibal let Sindy, Vivian’s assistant, usher him along the white corridors located in the winery’s underground, alert of any possible movements around him.

Sindy opened a large wooden door, nudging him inside, and shut it quickly behind her. Hannibal could hear her heels clanking in a hurry as if she wanted to leave the place as quickly as possible.

“Hello, my old Kaiser.”

Hannibal looked straight across and saw Vivian in red coat and signature blonde hair. She stood in front of her desk and an opened laptop that was no doubt concealing a gun behind the screen. He cocked his pistol, stepped forward, and pointed his gun at her head. “Where is he?”

“Oh,” Vivian said, feigning exaggerated innocence. She nodded at a concealed glass room to his right, tapped a key on her laptop, and revealed Will.

The man was bound to an office chair and had a gag on, surprisingly calm even when he was kidnapped. Will’s eyes widened for a fraction when he saw Hannibal, but Vivian switching the glass back to its opaque state. “You’re really concerned about your little one-night stand, aren’t you?”

Hannibal let out a breath of relief, lowered his gun, and returned his gaze to the woman standing across him. “So you want to please your bosses by closing old files? Cleaning house by wiping out retired agents?”

“I want to close open wounds,” Vivian answered, reaching again for her laptop. Hannibal knew what was coming. He readied his stance and saw Vivian smile. “That’s what you are, grandpa. A source of infection.”

Hannibal ducked as Vivian fired at him, retaliating with a shot of his own. The woman was quick, however, and came straight at him, kicking him square in the jaw. Hannibal heard the glass behind him crash, briefly worrying about whether Will would see them or not, and punched Vivian. The woman yelped and fired her gun again, missing Hannibal’s foot by just an inch, and attempted to kick him again.

He grabbed Vivian’s legs and slammed her against the wall. The woman groaned, but managed to make a flip and fired at his right thigh. Hannibal grunted, barely registering the pain, and shot at her side. Vivian fell down the floor, hissing in pain, and he took the moment to pin her down the floor. The woman shook violently and shot at his left shoulder, causing Hannibal to accidentally shoot her left foot. Vivian exclaimed. “Fuck!”

Hannibal grabbed her right arm with his free hand and pinned her other arm behind her back. He murmured next to her ear. “You tired?”

“I’m sick and tired of everything,” Vivian said, pulling away to look at his lips. “Kiss me or kill me, soldier.”

Hannibal snorted. He leaned in, aiming to look like he was going to kiss her while steering her body away from him. He subtly pressed the muzzle of his gun to her back, loosing the tightened hand he had around her forearm. When their faces were just a breath away, Hannibal grinned.

He pulled the trigger without a second thought.

Vivian gasped audibly, dropping her gun with a clank, then chuckled.

“Not a very good kiss,” she said with a smile. A drop of blood dripped from her lips. “Tastes like blood.”

He waited for her heart to stop before accessing her laptop. Hannibal took out the hard drive he had in the secret pocket of his coat, accessing his file. He took one last look over his profile, looking at the list of people that his agency made him kill without mercy. Hannibal scrolled down, clicked on the ‘Delete’ button, and confirmed it.

 _The Black Kaiser was finally dead_.

Hannibal hurriedly went to the glass room where he saw Will, ignoring the pain he felt on his leg and shoulder. The man’s face softened when he saw him and Hannibal could almost see the relief in Will’s eyes. He took off the man’s gag and cut the rope binding Will’s hands and feet.

“Are you alright?” Hannibal asked in a strained voice. His throat hurt a little when he spoke. “Did they hurt you?”

“Am I— _you’re_ the one bleeding,” Will exclaimed. He stood from his seat and wrapped Hannibal’s unhurt arm around him. Hannibal sighed, feeling content at the warmth that the man was radiating. He felt the man nudge him forward. “Come on.”

Hannibal smiled. He took out his flip phone from his pocket and handed it to Will. “Ring the only number. She’ll know what to do.” 

 

 

⌖

 

 

He shifted on the bed, breathing in the smell of hot cocoa wafting in the air. Hannibal could still feel the cold air beneath all the warm sheets he was buried in. It reminded him of home. He opened his eye and saw a figure sitting beside his bed.

“Will?” Hannibal sat up, groaning at the pain shooting in his shoulder.

“Hey.” Will closed his book. _Anathem_ , Hannibal saw on the front cover. The man scooted closer and brushed the hair off his forehead. Will gave him a small smile. “How are you?”

“I’m sorry,” Hannibal answered instead. He would understand if the man would pack his bags and leave him after everything he had witnessed. Hannibal smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t mean for you to get involved in all of that.”

Will’s eyes crinkled to the side. A complete opposite of what he was expecting the man to do. “You told me you were in the funeral business.”

“I’m truly sorry, Will.” He sighed and looked down, unsure of what he could say next. Hannibal breathed in the rich aroma floating around but kept his eye on the floor. “I thought I could protect you.”

The man was silent for a moment. Hannibal braced himself for the rejection and for the outrage that would come from the man. He heard nothing. Will took his right hand with both of his hands and squeezed it gently, prompting Hannibal to look up. The man was looking at him with an open genuineness that he had never seen before. “I’m still here, okay? You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

Hannibal stared briefly at the man in disbelief before shaking his head. “That’s not the only lie I’ve told you.”

“Let me guess... Duncan isn’t your real name, is it?”

He tilted his head to the side and studied the man. The man just kept on surprising him in different ways and he felt that this wouldn't be the last time that Will would do something entirely unexpected. It felt refreshing. Hannibal found himself liking the way he couldn’t entirely predict Will’s next move.

“I’m Hannibal Lecter.”

Will beamed, eyes sparkling, and lightly shook Hannibal’s hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Hannibal.”

“And you.”

The door opened and a bob-haired woman came in, carrying a tray of hot cocoa and salted pretzels. She looked back and forth between them and grinned broadly, putting the tray at the end of the bed and quickly excusing herself. Hannibal chuckled at the sight and sipped a small amount from one of the cups on the tray.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Will asked when the door clicked shut, his eyebrows raised up in suspicion. Hannibal narrowed his one good eye at Will, amused at the man’s question. Will’s tone was dangerously close to sounding jealous and Hannibal felt like he was back in middle school, feeling his stomach flip at the idea that Will was accepting who he really was despite what he had witnessed him do.

“We might not be related, but Camille is my family, Will. She reminds me of my sister. Nothing more and nothing less.” Hannibal pulled his hand away from Will’s hold and reached up, cupping his cheek and caressed it with his thumb in slow, circular motions. “Besides, I have someone in mind already.”

“Oh?” Will remarked, putting a hand on top of his. “And who’s the lucky one?”

“A friend.”

The man snorted and leaned closer, resting his forehead against Hannibal’s. Will breathed in. “You can still run, you know.”

“I don’t think I can,” Hannibal replied in a whisper. “My leg’s just been shot.”

Will laughed, a melodious sound that Hannibal would remember for the rest of his days, before sealing their lips together in a sweet, soft kiss. If being weak could give him _this_ , then maybe—just maybe—showing weakness can also give you bliss.

**Author's Note:**

> 1 _Pizdets_ used in this context in the same way as one would say ‘[damn it!](https://theculturetrip.com/europe/russia/articles/12-russian-swear-words-you-need-to-know/)’


End file.
